The Show Must Go On
by Catterall
Summary: Following the latest in a long line of regenerations; a new Doctor takes the helm of the TARDIS. With new and old companions, an entire cosmos of planets and species, and a darkness lurking in his future, there isn't much time leftover for a cup of tea. (A rewrite of an old story featuring an original Doctor.)


**Greetings to you all. Like it said in the blurb-y bit: this is a rewrite of a story I had previously posted (under a different name), was not happy with, and have decided to rewrite. So if you think some elements of this story are familiar, you may have read the old version.**

 **I'm not sure about when I'll update this story (given I rarely manage to keep to my deadlines), but since this is a redraft it could be quite frequent. I guess I'll decide once I see how well received the prologue is. To be honest, I didn't get much feedback last time and I'm not sure whether that was due to a lack of interesting writing or a boring premise. Maybe I'll find out.**

 **And a final note: the Doctor portrayed in this story is _not_ the Thirteenth. Nor is he the Fourteenth if you count by regenerations and not Doctors. He's simply a future incarnation I refer to as 'N', and there's at least one original incarnation between him and Peter Capaldi.**

 **Anyway, hope you enjoy and please review. It would be a big help.**

* * *

 **Prologue: Regeneration**

 _ **Timing Malfunction**_

 _ **Instigating Automatic Landing Procedures**_

"Oh, brilliant," The Doctor hissed in frustration as the few remaining TARDIS controls stopped responding to his commands. He was sure the Old Girl would hold this ludicrous idea against him later, but right now he could not afford a detour to San Francisco, or worse; Cardiff. There was too much riding on this final journey. "Come on, come on!"

It did not help that all available power was now being diverted into keeping the time circuits steady, meaning that not only were the lights dimmed into nigh-on darkness but the hold the TARDIS had on the precious cargo was also slipping. The Doctor had the greatest confidence that his faithful ship would only release the most valuable of goods in the direst of circumstances, maybe even after the internal dimensions imploded under the temporal strain. However, it was not inconceivable that the slightest fluctuation in the vortex would send his last gift ricocheting off into the oblivion of the void. And any previous signs that he would be successful did not matter; not when he was attempting a feat this grand.

With his current situation it was entirely likely that the whole universe was in flux, meaning no one future was certain. A failure to deliver could mean the complete unravelling of the causal nexus. It was not just a few lives this time. Everyone was unknowingly counting on his success.

A wracking cough overtook the Doctor as hobbled around the now smouldering gunmetal-grey console. His injuries were beginning to overwhelm him; his vision blurring and fingers numb. The ache in his chest and stomach was all-consuming by now, not helped by the radiation that was being vented through the console room. When he put his handkerchief to his mouth, it came away with a deep red pool nestled in the middle of the sweaty white rag. When he tried to blink away the bright spots in his eyes, he stumbled from the dizziness. When the entire room shook, he fell to his knees weakly. He began to think he may as well give up.

Supposing for a moment that he would fail; the Doctor thought about all the possible outcomes that could result from a total event collapse. If the vortex were shattered by his cargo falling away from the orbit of the TARDIS there would hardly be any chance of him being told off for it. Partly because he would be dead, but largely due to the fact no one would exist to be aware of that they used to. At best, the Doctor may be able to regenerate among the ruins of his TARDIS and a few small solar systems could survive. In fact, if he were an optimist he would hope that a miscalculation would carry him into E-Space or another smaller pocket universe where the death count would not be as severe. Regardless, should he die, which was looking increasingly likely, he would hardly have to care about all the people who died with him. At least he wouldn't have to watch someone he cared about die under his care again.

The cloister bell tolled through the burning halls, panels fell away from the wall and loose wires tore themselves from their sockets to begin spraying sparks over the madness. Yet the Doctor didn't react. He simply lay in the midst of it, his senses failing him and a gentle calmness beginning to engulf his brain. Perhaps the TARDIS initiating landing procedures was a good thing. Maybe she was saving him the pain.

"This is an alright way to go." The Doctor whispered, tucking his longs legs into an area of floor which seemed to be free of debris and awaiting the tidal wave of the Styx.

However, just as he was about to lose consciousness, a new sensation erupted in the darkness. It was no less painful than the chain of events which had led him to this point. It was an intense burning from head-to-toe, as if the ancient force was trying to melt away his skin and rip out his skeleton. A new course of adrenalin washed through his blood, sharpening his mind for one last moment. As his fingers began to feel the rough shrapnel on the floor and his vision began to clear, the Doctor came to the inevitable conclusion of how this scenario was going to end.

It had started.

"Oh, you just had to come along and disturb me!" The Doctor yelled at himself, at once feeling that he may as well finish the job rather than hand it over to someone else half-way through. "Just give me a _minute_!"

While unsteadily pulling himself to his feet, the Doctor reached into the pocket of his green blazer for the battered and cracked sonic screwdriver. The flickering screen which met his currently unblinded eyes gave him a mess of information which the TARDIS thought it may be useful for him to know. Apparently, while their course was being diverted towards Earth they were still heading in more or less the same direction he had intended. There was an obvious solution to this, but it was all a matter of how much power the TARDIS still had and how much longer there was before he had to bow out. Already the golden hue was beginning to float away from his hands.

Jabbing the screen with the sonic, the Doctor disabled a large amount of the automatic landing procedures in a final blast which rendered the screwdriver little more than a broken torch. This was stuffed back into one of the deep pockets while he set about resuming the original course, much to the protest of the engines. As expected, the TARDIS tried to fight off his inputs and resume the algorithms that had been erased by the sonic. It was a delicate balance of trying to keep them on task whilst also saving themselves, but eventually, the Doctor succeeded in performing the fly-by of the largely empty star-system that had been recommended.

With a flick of the master lever, the cargo was released and a surge of fuel struck the atom accelerator. As a direct result, the Doctor only had a few seconds to bask in the glow of his self-satisfaction before he was thrown off his feet for the final time by the lurching of the TARDIS.

Doubtless his longest companion was eager to take him somewhere quiet, where he could recover in peace, and he was certainly in no state to pilot the console himself. Indeed, it had been in the few seconds of calm before this rush to reach his adopted home world that the process had finally asserted itself fully. Before the Doctor had even hit the floor a blaze of golden crimson had enshrouded his body and had stripped away the layers of complexity to start building something new.

Diverse cells regressed into stem cells one-by-one, before differentiating in much the same way. Hair burnt away to be replaced by a new tangle and the eyes were blinded to make way for a new perspective. His cry of pain morphed in pitch and tone, before falling into silence as a fresh face settled on top of the old one.

All the while, the TARDIS sped through time and space in order to locate a haven in which there was nothing to complicate the process. It was not safe for the Doctor to remain within his ship longer than was absolutely necessary, but it was imperative he was not dropped off somewhere too stressful. Somewhere out of the way, somewhere simple and somewhere it was unlikely he would get into trouble. Unfortunately, so little remained of the Emergency Landing Protocol that it was difficult for the damaged engines to make an easy touchdown. The only thing the TARDIS could measure now was the year and the rough number of other-worldly emissions in the air.

As the Time Rotor came to a stop in its cracked glass column, an alarm not unlike that of a bedside clock began blaring from the console. It rose in volume when the only occupant did not immediately respond and reached the point of a deafening cacophony when mixed with the crackling cables and roaring fires which dominated most of the space. Finally, there was a stirring from a seamless corner of the room and a man who was a stranger even to himself sat up in mild curiosity.

"Is it that time already?" The new man slurred in confusion, shaking off the dust which had accumulated on his blazer and standing for the first time. He didn't seem to notice the harsh chemical fog which was filling the room, nor did he catch onto the exact meaning of all the alarms. "I was just having a lovely little nap. Is there something the matter, dear?"

Blinking away the haze of regeneration, the Doctor stumbled across to the controls to study the failing scanner in a half-asleep stupor. Behind him, another cable burst into a sparking nightmare and yet failed to rouse any wariness in the man. He was far too engrossed by the approximation of when and where he was to notice such dangers.

 _ **Current Destination: England, Sol III, Sol. Thursday, Fifth November, 2015: 07:25:32 Local Time.**_

"Oh! Wonderful! Wonderful!" The new Doctor exclaimed with glee, failing to notice the supporting girder which slumped onto the floor across from him. "Bonfire Night! Just what I needed. I guess you'll want me out of the way for a little while. Don't worry. A walk is just what I need to clear my head."

The TARDIS dimly chimed in approval at his incepted idea to go outside, and the doors _snapped_ open for him as he approached. In a rapid sequence the lights began extinguishing themselves behind him, with the console dimming to a sickly glow. Once he was outside, the doors slammed and locked to prevent him from blundering back in during reconstruction. Not that the Doctor paid this action any attention.

Instead, he just patted the dirt covered wood fondly whilst staring out at the empty fields.

"Smell that air," He said appreciatively, inhaling deeply through his nose. "I'll be back in a little while, dear."

And with that, the Doctor staggered out into the world, completely amazed in his delirious state. He began to think of all the things he might encounter out in this domestic wilderness and studied everything around him with a childish, wide-eyed wonder. Sadly, his new attentive state would have been handy just a moment earlier as, when learning about his new surroundings from the broken screen; he hadn't seen the important message underneath the details. It was too late now to find it, but he would have known to be more careful had he spotted the blaring warning.

 _ **DANGER**_

 _ **Hostile Elements Detected**_


End file.
